


Cute Poison

by yohlenyaoilover



Series: Prison Break: The Project [4]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Panic, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yohlenyaoilover/pseuds/yohlenyaoilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haywire needed to see it, just a little bit more. He knew it was a maze, he knew he could figure out where it lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cute Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my lovely project!  
> I've started re-watching Prison Break and plan on writing a short fic after each episode.  
> Each story will be titled to match the episode.  
> Sometimes the stories will relate directly to the main storyline, sometimes I'll pick out one moment that really strikes me and run with it.  
> This series will explore a whole bunch of pairings, with each one being a stand alone fic.
> 
> This story is for Season 1, Episode 4.  
> Haywire is put in Michael's cell to replace Sucre, and quickly becomes a little obsessed with Michael's tatts. 
> 
> Let's go!

The sound of fabric ripping startled Michael awake. There was a gentle tugging at his back and a draft cooled his skin there. He jerked forwards, flung his body around until he had his back firmly pressed against the cool bricks of his cell wall.

Haywire was sat on the floor by his bed, hands still outstretched where the fabric of Michael's top had been wrenched from. 

"Your tattoos, there's a maze," Haywire's voice was soft, barely disturbing the gentle quiet of the night. 

"Get away from me," Michael's breath was laboured. Panic hit him right in the gut. He could still feel Haywire's hands on his body. 

"I need to see them, you've got to show them to me. It's pulling me in," Haywire leant forwards, hands stretching out in front of him. It was as if he was possessed. He wasn't seeing Michael in front of him but a work of art. Something to be studied and learnt. 

"I said get away from me," Michael tried his damnedest to sound threatening, to stop the shake in his voice and limbs alike. He seemed to succeed as Haywire dropped back a little, settling back on his haunches. 

"He has a maze on his skin, why would he do that?" Haywire breathed the words out. He was miles away, retreating in to his own mind. Michael stayed tense, legs up on the bed to create a sort of barrier between them. He was too scared to move, didn't want to accidentally jerk Haywire back to reality. Currently the psych patient was muttering almost incoherently to himself, eyes unfocused. 

"Why would he do that, a maze on his skin,"

Michael shifted his feet trying to pull them further out of reach but Haywire snapped out of his daze. Suddenly Michael was being grabbed all over. Haywire crawled up on to the bed, hands reaching and touching and pulling. Michael felt his shirt rip more, exposing his stomach. 

"Haywire, stop," Michael struggled, tried to push the other man off of him. Fuck, Haywire was strong. In Michael's desperation, Haywire was able to capture both of his wrists in an iron grip. He held them firmly to one side as he pushed Michael down on to the bed. Panic set in and Michael found himself completely unable to move, his body shut down and let Haywire have his way. 

The psychotic man ripped more of the shirt blocking his view. The Devil triumphing over the Angel slowly becoming exposed. He could see it, the maze. The lines that joined all of the pictures together. He just needed to get closer.

Haywire brought his face as close as he could to the skin in front of him, so close that the ink became fuzzy and out of focus. He wanted to taste it. Maybe his tongue could taste where the path led, seeing as his eyes couldn't make it out. 

Michael gasped and jerked as Haywire's tongue touched his stomach. Panic made his body run both hot and cold simultaneously, sweat dotted his brow. He didn't know what to do; if he fought, Haywire could seriously hurt him, kill him even. But if he didn't, how far would Haywire take this?

The other man's tongue was hot a wet against his stomach and chest. He traced the lines he found, up the sword clasped in the Devil's hand and back down the edge of his wing. He skipped over the hunched Angel and headed straight for the feathers of it's wings, the tips of which were hidden inside the waistband of Michael's pants.

"Where does it lead?" Haywire murmured, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of undoing Michael's trousers. He pulled them down along with Michael's underwear just far enough to reveal un-tattooed skin, the top inch of Michael's pubic hair curling darkly.

"It's ended," Haywire pulled back enough to focus on the ink-free skin, his fingers ever so slightly brushing the curls of coarse hair there.

"It ends but where does it lead?" Haywire frowned and backed off of the bed, retreating to the corner near the cell door. He looked out through the bars, the light from the corridor outside fell across his face, illuminating his bright inquisitive eyes. 

Michael shuddered and felt control slowly seep back in to his limbs. His fingers twitched and reached down to button himself back up. The engineer pulled the bed covers around himself, shielding himself as much as he could.

He needed a plan, needed to get Haywire out and Sucre back in, not only for the escape but for his own safety. Michael spent the rest of that night huddled on his bunk, back to cold concrete, wrapped tightly in his bed sheet. Half an eye was on the man in the corner and half his mind on a plan to set him up.

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to have a thing for Michael suffering and his stomach getting exposed...  
> I'm sorry Wentworth.


End file.
